Front Page Scandal
by everlovingdeer
Summary: "What is this?" he asked, staring at the piece of paper. "My phone number," I answered slowly, "Call me." "But I don't have a phone." A spin-off of sorts, to 'Chasing the Report'
1. Front Page Scandal

The small coffee shop that I worked in usually went overlooked by the majority of the busy London crowd. Our customers were usually regulars who returned over and over again for their daily fix of caffeine and the waiting staff normally built up a close relationship with each and every one of our customers. As a result, new customers stood out like a sore thumb. Although, from the way _this_ new customer was acting, he would have stuck out anyway.

He hesitated by the front door for a while before making up his mind and sitting down at one of the empty tables. And with my luck, the table he had chosen to sit down at, was one I was in charge of. Stepping out from behind the counter, I headed towards his table and waited for him to acknowledge me.

"Are you alright there, sweetheart?" I asked, watching him as he scanned the menu with slight confusion.

At the sound of my voice he turned to face me and gave me a sheepish smile. "Sorry, I'm not from around here."

"I can tell," I fought a smile, "Do you need some help?"

"I'm not sure what to pick," he admitted, turning back to the menu, "I've never really drank coffee before."

My eyebrows flew up in surprise, "You've never drank coffee before? And yet you're sitting in a coffee shop?"

"Today's supposed to be about trying something new." He shrugged his shoulder and I found the action more adorable than I should have. Closing the menu, he turned his eyes back onto me. "Why don't you recommend me something?"

"Well because you've never tried coffee before, I'm not sure if you'll like the taste of it," I admitted, turning to look at the black chalkboard that displayed our menu. "Many beginners don't like the taste of coffee. But do you want to try a latte? It's one of the drinks that has the least coffee in it."

I turned back to face him, starting slightly when I realised that he was watching me quiet closely. Scratching the side of my jaw with the end of my pen, I forced myself not to grow red under his stare.

"How does a latte sound?"

"Would you recommend it – for a beginner, that is?" He tilted his head to the side curiously, putting his chin in his hand. At my nod, he straightened his posture, "That sounds good then – I'll have a latte please."

"Would you like anything else to go with it? We've got some of today's special double chocolate fudge cake left, would you like some?"

He leaned contemplatively back in his seat. "I'm supposed to be on a diet for training, but it sounds really tempting."

"Well I won't tell if you don't."

He chuckled and sat up straight. "Alright, you've convinced me."

"Ok then, it'll be a short wait and I'll be back with your order."

With that, I approached the counter and relayed his order to the barista, declaring that I'd take my break after giving the customer his order.

"Would you like your usual?" the barista asked, pausing momentarily in his search through the cupboards to look at me.

I smiled thankfully, "Yes please."

Waiting patiently for the order to come out, I found my eyes drifting back to my unusual customer who was looking around the room with a strange sort of fascination. He clearly wasn't from around here. Sitting up in his seat, he stretched his arms over his head and I found my eyes glued to the expanse of clear skin exposed by the gesture – well, he was clearly athletic.

"If your done perving on your customer, their order is up," the barista remarked from behind me. "Your usual is finished too."

"There's nothing wrong with admiring the male figure," I threw back as I balanced both his order and my own on the tray.

Picking the tray up, I approached the strange man's table. Placing his order in front of him, I set my tray on the table and started to untie my apron.

"You don't mind if I join you, do you?" I asked, waiting for him to respond.

"No, please." He gestured to the seat across from him. "Be my guest."

Settling down in the seat, I took my usual – a cappuccino and a slice of cheesecake – from the tray and placed it on the table. Putting the tray on the floor, I raised my coffee to my lips and settled down in my seat.

"So where are you from then Mr –?"

"Pucey, Adrian Pucey." He shifted uncomfortably at my question. "I don't live far from here, I'm staying in another part of London."

"Oh right." I watched as he took his first sip of coffee and his brows furrowed slightly at the taste; I couldn't tell whether he liked it or not. "And what is it that made you come in here? Usually people just walk straight passed our shop."

"A friend recommended it to me." He rubbed the back of his neck, "A teammate, actually."

"A teammate?" I repeated curiously.

"I'm a professional athlete," he explained. Well that certainly explained his body.

"And what is it that you play?"

He paused, searching for something to say and my eyebrows furrowed. Why could he not answer such a straightforward question? "It's a rather ambiguous sport but I'm quite well known for it."

"You sound like you're trying to impress me," I teased, setting my cup back onto the table. "I'll pretend to believe you though."

"Maybe I am trying to impress you," he remarked offhandedly.

"And why would you be trying to do that, then?"

"Because I find you very interesting." He took another sip of his latte.

"I should be the one saying that." I gestured to his coffee. "How is it?"

"I like it," he declared, "But I think I'd prefer something a bit stronger."

"Well lucky for you, there are drinks that are much stronger." I glanced at the clock and rose to my feet; my break was coming to an end. Picking up my apron, I tied it around my waist once again, "The next time you come, you can try something stronger."

"And how do you know I'll come back again?" He raised an eyebrow, a smile playing on his lips.

"You said youfind me interesting and because you find me interesting, you probably want this too."

Taking the notepad from my apron, I jotted my phone number down on one of the pages, ripped it out and handed it to him. Picking up my previously discarded tray, I placed my empty cup and plate on it and went to leave when –

"What is this?" he asked, staring at the piece of paper.

"My phone number," I answered slowly, "Call me."

"But I don't have a phone."

My eyebrows flew up in surprise but I understood his words loud and clear. I didn't allow myself to feel the sting of his rejection as I moved to take the piece of paper back from him. But he held it out of my reach and my eyes flickered towards his curiously. What was he playing at?

"I'll figure something out," he muttered, looking down at my number again.

Turning away from him, I headed back to the counter, my face a portrait of confusion. What type of person didn't own a phone in this day and age?

* * *

My strange customer, Adrian, returned 2 weeks later – not that I had been keeping track.

He walked in through the door and at the sound of the chiming bell, I had looked up and seen him. Without so much as a look to the counter, he headed back to the same table he had sat in last time and settled down without picking up a menu. I counted to 50 in my head – I didn't want to seem too eager – and then made my way over to the table.

"What can I get for you this time?" I asked, taking out my notepad and pen.

"Someone recommended an americano," he said, raising his eyes to meet mine with a smile.

My eyebrows flew up, "Are you sure you want to order an americano? The last thing you ordered was a cappuccino?"

He nodded with a smile. "I'm sure. Do you have any other specials?"

"Aren't you supposed to be on a diet for training?" I teased, eyes flickering to the chalkboard to read off the specials.

"I can just run some more, I guess." He shrugged his shoulders.

"Well, today's special is a Nutella muffin, would you like to try it?"

"Nutella?" he raised an eyebrow.

"Let me guess; you've never tried Nutella either?" He shook his head and I sighed, "Do you even know what Nutella is?" Again, he shook his head. "Well do you have any nut allergies?"

"No I don't."

"Then I'll bring one over for you to try as well." Jotting it down, I looked at him from over the notepad. "Is there anything else you'd like?"

"Would you join me again?" Crossing his arms over his chest, he explained, "I quite enjoyed our last conversation."

"Um, of course. Let me just go and get your order."

Returning to the counter and placing the order, I dipped into the back room for a second to mentally scold myself. What was wrong with me? Why was I getting so worked up over a man that I had only met twice? Especially when I knew that there was something off about him? He claimed to be a professional athlete and yet couldn't tell me what sport he played, he had no phone and he had no idea what Nutella was.

"Your order's up."

Emerging from the back room and picking up the orders, I returned to the table and sat down across from him again. He instantly took a sip of the americano and I could tell that he'd found his drink.

"So, what have you been up to?" he asked as I untied my apron.

"Not a lot, I've been attending university classes and working here."

"What are you studying to become?" He bit into his muffin and yet again, from his expression, I could tell that he liked Nutella. But then again, who didn't?

"A doctor." I broke off a chunk of my muffin. "I'm in my final year. What have you been up to since your last visit?"

"Training season has started again," he explained, "So I've been busy with training."

"Ah, right, training for the sport you won't tell me the name of."

My word seemed to get to him and he went to say something when two people approached our table. I glance curiously at them, only to find that their eyes were focused on Adrian. I wasn't sure if they'd even noticed my presence.

"Pucey," one of them said in greeting, making Adrian look up at them. "How's the training going? I've bought tickets to the first game."

"I didn't know that tickets were on sale yet." Adrian watched me from the corner of his eye, speaking slowly. "But I hope you enjoy the game."

"I'll only enjoy it if you win," the man continued with a chuckle, "But then again, with you as the captain, victory is almost guaranteed."

"I wouldn't say that," Adrian denied as I took a sip of my cappuccino. "The other side is a really strong team."

"But what are you doing here, man?" The second bloke asked Adrian. "I'd never expect to see you in," the man looked at me as if he was suddenly noticing my presence, "in London."

"I just needed some time away," Adrian explained, glancing towards me again, "Don't let me keep you from your shopping."

The men said their farewells and left the coffee shop as Adrian turned back to face me. I tilted my head to the side slightly as I observed the man across from me.

"I didn't believe it at first, but you are a professional athlete and the captain to boot," I murmured contemplatively. "How do you know them?"

"We went to school together," he explained, reaching into his pocket to get something.

"Any place I know?"

"I doubt it." He shook his head, "It's a boarding school up in Scotland."

"It sounds fun," I remarked, watching him place something on the table. It was a phone. Raising my eyes to his, I watched him curiously, "So you do have a phone then?"

"I bought one," he explained.

I glanced at the clock and noticed that my break was almost over. But still, I made no move to leave. "Why?"

"Because you gave me your number."

"You could have thrown it away," I pointed out.

"I didn't want to."

"But you didn't call me either." I crossed my arms over my chest, leaning back in my chair as I fought the urge to smile. He was becoming flustered and from the way he was reacting, he clearly had no idea what to do. But something told me that this didn't happen to him often and I was perhaps enjoying it too much.

"That's because I wanted to do this in person," he started to say, looking away from me and down to the table beneath his fingers.

"And what is 'this', exactly?" I asked, waving a hand at the barista when he gestured to tell me that my break had come to an end. Could he not be a little more patient?

"I want to ask you out on a date."

"Why?" I furrowed my eyebrows, "You barely know me."

"Well I want to get to know you."

I rose from my seat and retied my apron around my waist. "Well then, you call me and we can sort something out." Gathering my empty cup and putting it on the tray, I smiled down at the seated man, "I rather want to get to know you too."

"Really, now?"

I nodded and headed back to the counter, throwing over my shoulder, "You're a very interesting man, Mr Pucey."

* * *

 _2 YEARS LATER_

Even after dating Adrian for 2 years, I still knew next to nothing about the man. He had always remained so secretive about his family, about his job, about anything really. And as I stared down at the positive pregnancy test in front of me, I couldn't help the sinking feeling I felt in my stomach. I was in love with the man, I knew that just as surely as I knew my name, but that didn't change the fact that he was particularly a stranger to me.

If I tried to pry into anything, he became distant and shut down or he attempted to change the topic. But this sudden discovery would have to change all of that. We needed to decide what to do and I had yet to tell him.

With a sigh, I set the pregnancy test back down onto the counter and dialled Adrian's number. I knew that he was bound to be training now – for a sport I still didn't know the name of – but he had always managed to pick up after a few rings. Sure enough, he picked up the phone.

"Adrian?" I said quietly, hearing the loud voices of his teammates in the background as they called out for their captain. "Are you busy training?"

"We're taking a short break," he replied and I could hear the smile in his voice. "Is something the matter?"

"It's nothing important." I chewed nervously on my bottom lip, staring down at the test lying innocently in front of me, "But do you think you could come to my apartment once you've finished with training?"

"We've got another hour of training but I'll be there as soon as I can," he promised as I heard their coach shout an instruction in the background, "I have to go love, I'll see you soon."

"See you soon, Adrian."

I hung up the phone with furrowed eyebrows; I could have sworn that his captain said something about flying. With a sigh, I put my phone away and buried my head into my hands. Adrian promised to be here as soon as he could and he would do just that. Somehow, he would get here just ten minutes after his training was supposed to finish and I wouldn't even hear the front door open. One moment he wasn't there and the next, he would be in my hallway. I had questioned him about it a few times and he had just joked that I wasn't very perceptive. No one was stupid enough to buy that excuse, but I allowed him to think that I had.

Rising to my feet, I walked around my apartment and started to clear up. I had just over an hour until Adrian arrived. My assumption proved correct. I was in the kitchen when I heard his voice from the hallway.

"Love?"

This time, I had been listening out for the sound of the door and I clearly hadn't heard it.

"I'm in the kitchen," I called out. This time I wasn't going to let it go. I couldn't let it all go anymore.

Walking into the kitchen, Adrian smiled as he approached me and pecked my cheek on his way to the fridge. "How has your day been?"

"I got some important news today," I answered and he made an inquisitive noise. "But before any of that, we need to talk Adrian."

Peeking around the open fridge door, he raised an eyebrow. "That doesn't sound very good."

Crossing my arms over my chest, I leaned against the counter and sighed. "How did you get into my apartment Adrian?"

"Through the front door?" He furrowed his eyebrows, shutting the fridge door. "With the key you gave me?"

"No, you didn't." I watched his reaction closely, trying to figure out what he was doing. Did he have a reason for potentially lying to me throughout the duration of our entire relationship? "I didn't hear the sound of the door."

"You probably weren't paying attention –"

"I was listening out for it." His stance shifted defensively as he leaned against the closed fridge. "So, do you want to change your answer?"

Pushing away from the fridge, he approached me and took a hold of my shoulders. "Why does that matter?" he asked gently, hands travelling up the slope of my neck to frame my face and tilt my head up towards his. "What's the real reason that you're curious about that? It doesn't matter."

"Of course it matters," I persisted, pushing away from him slightly. I couldn't think straight when he was so close to me. "Your training was supposed to finish after an hour, you said, and then you'd have to shower, get changed, travel here, go into the elevator and then finally arrive at my apartment. You can't do that in the extra ten minutes you always take."

"Practice finished early."

"Does it finish early _every_ time?" I raised an eyebrow. "For God's sake, I don't even know what it is you do for a living Adrian! You claim to be a professional athlete and yet I have no idea what it is you play! You're so secretive about anything that happened before you met me and your friends always act so cautious when I'm around too. And heaven forbid I mention your parents or your family, then you shut off all together! I can't keep turning a blind eye to it."

"And what are you saying?" he asked quietly. This was the most serious I had seen him.

"I'm saying that I can't trust you," I admitted quietly, "God, Adrian – I love you so much, but I can't trust you and that terrifies me more than anything."

"What do you want me to do?" He wasn't looking at me, "You've said a lot of things but what do you actually want from me?"

"Some answers would be nice." I scoffed quietly in disbelief, "I'd like answers to why you're here one minute and gone the next, about why you won't tell me a thing about yourself, and about why you're being so secretive in the first place."

"And if I can't tell you?"

"If you _don't_ tell me, then I'm not sure how to carry on with what I was planning to tell you." Playing with my fingers, I couldn't bring myself to meet his eyes. With a deep breath, I steadied myself. "I'm pregnant."

There was a still silence.

"Merlin's beard," he swore quietly, the words foreign to my ears.

I looked up to see his retreating back as he hurried out of the kitchen. This time I heard the door open and close.

* * *

Adrian made his return the next morning.

I had woken up to find him moving around in my kitchen. The sight had me rooted in the doorway. Clearing my throat, I stepped into the kitchen to help myself to a glass of water.

"What are you doing here?" I asked leaning against the counter to watch him at the stove.

"I'm cooking you breakfast," he answered as though nothing had happened yesterday.

"That's not what I'm talking about and you know it."

With a sigh, he plated the eggs he had been making and handed me a plate. I took it from him and headed towards the table. He still hadn't answered me. Waiting for him at the table, I took the mug of tea he handed me.

"You're supposed to have less caffeine," he explained, sitting down in the seat across from me, "during, during a pregnancy."

"Right." I cleared my throat and set the mug down. "But again, Adrian, what are you doing here?"

"I figured that we needed to talk."

Pulling a folded piece of paper out from his pocket, he slid it across the table towards me. Taking it curiously, I opened it up and raised an eyebrow.

"It's blank," I said, looking at him from over the top of the sheet of paper.

"You need to sign it," he explained, "And then I can tell you everything."

"And what is it supposed to be exactly?"

"It's a partner registration form." He picked at his eggs, not looking at me.

"That sounds an awful lot like marriage."

"It's similar," he said slowly, "Similar, but not the same."

"I'm going to pretend that I understood what that meant. But that doesn't change the fact that it's still a blank piece of paper Adrian."

He sighed and raised his eyes to mine, "Just humour me."

"Fine, do you have a pen?"

He passed me a pen and I signed my name at the bottom of the paper, only for it to fall out of my hand moments later. Ink slowly appeared on the paper only to form words that weren't there moments ago. What the hell –

I raised my eyes to look at Adrian who was busy watching me apprehensively. Looking back down at the piece of paper I read the first sentence and only made it that far before turning back to Adrian.

"The Ministry of Magic?" I asked quietly, "If this is some elaborate plan to get out of telling me the truth –"

"It is the truth," he assured me. Standing up from his seat, he walked around the table to come to a stop beside me and put a hand on my shoulder. "I know it's going to be hard to believe, but just read it, please."

So I did.

I read through the letter that outlined to me the existence of the wizarding world and that fact that my boyfriend was a wizard. Legally, he had not been allowed to tell me of the existence of magic and faced the risk of having his wand taken away if I told any other 'muggle' person about magic. And if I _did_ tell anyone about magic, then I would be made to forget about Adrian all together.

Once I had read the document through, I put it on the table and let out a heavy sigh. That was a lot to take in.

"Are you alright?" Adrian asked and I turned to look at him.

After reading it all through and finding out the truth, I had expected to see him differently and to find him somehow different. But he was still the same person, we were still the same. He was still my Adrian. Letting out a somewhat relieved breath, I wrapped my arms around his middle and hugged him close. Ignoring the discomfort of the armrest digging into my skin, I held him close to me.

"I'm not sure," I admitted, "Part of me believes that it's true but another part of me has so many more questions that need an answer."

"Well I'll try and answer them for you." He smoothed a hand over my hair. "Whatever question you have I'll try and answer them."

Pulling away from him, I straightened up and gestured for him to sit down. "This partner registration thing, what does it actually mean for us? Because it sounds like you've risked a lot by registering me."

"I have risked a lot," he acknowledged, "But it would have been the same if we had gotten married."

"And the sport you play, does it involved flying?"

He nodded, eyebrows rising in surprise. "It does, how did you know?"

"I heard your coach mention it," I admitted, "And those nights where I'd find you randomly in my living room?"

"I was placing wards," he explained. "They're protection charms, of sorts."

I nodded before becoming more cautious about my next question. "Adrian, your family –"

"They have no idea I'm dating, let alone that I'm dating a muggle – a non-wizard." He rubbed a hand across his face, suddenly seeming tired. "There are some pure-blooded wizards who believe that muggles are beneath them and that even associating with muggles or muggleborns is a heinous crime. My parents – well they share that mentality."

Although I couldn't understand some of what he had said, I understood that his parents had their own prejudices. Prejudices that would discriminate against me.

"Oh right." I looked away from him. "And you don't share the same views?"

He was out of his seat in an instant. Kneeling beside my chair, he took my face in his hands and made me look at him.

"How can you even think, for one second, that I would share those views?" He pressed his forehead against mine. "Merlin woman, I am mad for you – completely. How could I be in love with you and share those views?"

"I'm sorry, I just –"

"It's alright love," he assured me with a peck to my lips. "I understand that it's a lot to take in. Do you have any more questions?"

"Just one."

He laughed affectionately, "What is it?"

"Can I see you wand?"


	2. Epilogue

_1 YEAR LATER_

I was watching my first quidditch match and I swore that it was going to give me a heart attack. What was the need for the sport to be so bloody violent? Compared to any of the sports in the 'muggle' world, quidditch was so much more aggressive and dangerous. For god's sake, what was the need to fly in the sky on a bloody broom of all things. The bloody stick – because no matter what Adrian said, it was a stick – had no seat, no safety measure, nothing. There was no safety net to catch the players if they fell and apparently, they fell often. And don't even get me started on the cannon balls known as bludgers; the sport was already life threatening, what was the need to add cannon balls that were flung in the direction of the opposing team.

From the safety of the box, designated to the player's family, I anxiously watched Adrian fly through the sky. He was enjoying himself, I could tell, but did he need to give me a heart attack whilst doing so? Arcing through the air with the ball – the quaffle, I think it was called – tucked against his chest with one arm, Adrian raced towards the goal hoops of which there were 3 (it was a bit of an overkill, if you asked me). The quaffle soared through the unguarded hoop and Adrian looped back towards his team mates.

The baby cradled against my chest fussed in her sleep. I rose to my feet, walking around the booth in an attempt to soothe her. Our daughter, only 3 months old, was far too young to be attending the quidditch match. I had told Adrian that much, but he had insisted that he wanted his daughter to be present when his team one their fourth consecutive league.

At the sound of a sharp cry, I shifted my hold on Elena, cradling her in my arms as I continued to walk around. My eyes scanned the room, soothing noises leaving my mouth only to halt for a second when my eyes landed on my in-laws. My father-in-law turned away from me instantly, the action followed hesitantly by my mother-in-law. I wasn't surprised that my in-laws hated me, neither was I surprised that their dislike seemed to carry across to my daughter.

With a small sigh, I looked down at the now peacefully awake infant before heading back to my seat. Once I had sat back down in my seat, I glanced curiously at the woman beside me who held out welcoming arms.

"Let me hold her for a bit." My eyes shifted to the face of Cormac's girlfriend who held her arms out invitingly. The witch – a 'muggleborn' – and I had hit it off surprisingly well and I didn't hesitate as I handed my daughter off to her.

She made a small cooing noise to my daughter who looked up at her with wide eyes. When I was certain that Elena wouldn't cry at being held by the other woman, I looked back to the field and wished that I hadn't.

Adrian was hanging off from his broom, clutching at it with two hands.

"What the hell happened?" I asked pointlessly, rising to my feet and approaching the edge of the booth. I knew quidditch was a dangerous sport, I knew that, and I had told Adrian as much, but did he listen to me –

His grip on the broom slipped and I closed my eyes, unable to watch him fall. The crowd screamed and I felt my heart start to sprint, dread settling deep in the pit of my stomach. If something had happened –

"You can open your eyes," a voice said gently from my left.

I opened my eyes cautiously, eyes instantly flickering to the grass at the bottom of the pitch. Scouring the entire pitch for any sight of him, I felt like I had momentarily stopped breathing when I didn't find him. Where had he gone? Raising my eyes to the sky, I let out a large breath when I saw him riding on the back of one of his teammate's brooms. He was flown back to his broom and just as he had sat astride it again, the whistle was blown. The game had come to an end.

There was no need to look at the scoreboard; the monumental cheer that rang through the stadium from the fans decked in Adrian's team's colours was enough. The cheeky bastard had the nerve to fly a lap around the field in celebration, as if he hadn't just been dangling thousands of feet above his potential death. He came to a stop beside the booth, flying mid-air.

"How was the game, love?" He was beaming from ear to ear.

"I'm never coming to one again," I declared, sounding more than a little relieved.

"We both know that's a lie."

He reached out to take one of my hands from the railing – I had clung to it when I'd seen him clinging to his broom – and raised it to his lips. Pressing a kiss to the back of my hand, he was off again to join the rest of the team. They collected their trophy and the players returned to the booth after the game without getting changed. They were lucky that a spell existed that prevented them from smelling of sweat.

They walked into the booth, heading straight over to their family and I found myself pressed against a chest before I had even noticed Adrian walk in. Returning his embrace, I pressed my cheek to his chest and listened to the rapid beating of his heart. Pulling away from him slightly, I looked up at him with a smile.

"Congratulations, I told you that you'd be able to do it."

"Thank you." He pressed a kiss to my nose, "Now tell me what you really think about quidditch."

"It's way too dangerous and if I ever see you dangling from your broom again, I'm going to chuck it into a woodchipper."

He chuckled at my words and I buried my face in his chest again. He was fine – he was in my arms and he was unhurt. Pressing a kiss to the top of my head, he asked, "Where's Elena?"

"She's with Cormac's girlfriend."

No sooner than the words were out of my mouth, Adrian was already making his way towards his teammate and his girlfriend who, upon seeing Adrian, held Elena out for him to take.

"Here's daddy's princess," he cooed, lifting our daughter high into the air. She giggled as Adrian lowered her and brought her back to his chest. "Were you a good girl for Mummy?"

"She was a very good girl." I removed her fist from her mouth and went to congratulate Cormac, only to find that he wasn't there.

"He's leaving the booth," Adrian said before I could even ask.

Sure enough, Cormac was following his girlfriend out of the booth and I couldn't help but sigh, "What did he do now?"

"Well you know how the team talk about stuff," he said a little too casually, "Well he said stuff, even though she told him not too. But I mean, us guys do that all the time."

"Do you now?" I raised an eyebrow; he had no idea the type of danger he was in. "And what have you told the team – even after _I_ told _you_ to stop doing that."

"That we have to use the silencing charm a lot." He tried to pass it off casually but I wasn't falling for it.

My lips parted in shock and I took Elena from her father. "You are sleeping on the sofa tonight."

"But – "

"Or you can sleep with one of your no-good gossiping teammates in their home."

"Come on, you can't – "

"Can't I?" I adjusted my hold on Elena and threw him a filthy glare. "And just so you're aware, we won't be using the silencing charm for a _long_ time, Mr Pucey."


End file.
